


Fortune favours the Fool

by ApprenticeRhea



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21675811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticeRhea/pseuds/ApprenticeRhea
Summary: Basically, a retelling of the Arcana storyline starring my apprentice Rhea, but I´m later merging Asra´s and Julian´s routes for a poly relationship as the endgame.Also featuring a healthy dose of my own bullshit writing to try and fix plotholes and make everything fit together.Mostly canon-compliant, but I´ll take creative liberties whenever inspiration strikes.
Relationships: Asra Alnazar/Apprentice, Asra Alnazar/Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian devorak/apprentice
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. 0 - The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Since I somehow need to fit the contents of two routes into one, I chose to add "The Fool" as the first chapter title to give me a little more space later on when the story really picks up. So...don´t be confused when the events in my chapters don´t match up with the events in the chapters of the original routes. 
> 
> Also, english isn´t my native language, so if there are any errors, I´d be thankful for anyone who points them out.

{The Fool stands on a cliff's edge, overlooking the limitless potential of their future.}

{The way is uncertain, but you have all the tools. Make the leap. Do not let insecurity bind you.}

-

{The Fool rushes in without guidance, ignoring all the warning signs.} 

{Beware of acting rashly. Consider the consequences of your actions and tread lightly in the dark.}

\----------

“You really are a fool, if you thought I wouldn´t repay you. A week ago I barely had a coin left in my pockets and things were looking grim for my daughter. None of the doctors in town were willing to make a deal for their medicine and you just gave me the healing potion for free. Now that my little girl is better, I was able to pick up my work at the forge again. So of course I´m gonna pay what I owe you! I´m no scammer!”, Dario states in his booming voice, dropping a little pouch full of copper coins onto the counter. 

I take it and shoot him a smile; there is no sense in arguing with the blacksmith. “Thank you.”

He just huffs out a laugh. “No, I should thank you. That potion basically cured my daughter’s fever overnight. I should have come here first thing, but I never really trusted this magic stuff. When he gets back, you can tell your master that you´ve just won a new customer with your good deed”, he declares. “And I´ll make sure to spread word about your service.”

“Always glad to hear that”, I reply warmly, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. “Who would have thought that giving our wares away for free would end up being a sensible business decision. My master will be quite relieved that I´m not plunging this shop into ruin after all”, I joke.

Since I met Asra and became his apprentice, we both reside in the corner house that once belonged to my aunt, with the shop in the downstairs and our living quarters in the upstairs. We started small, but due to Asra´s reputation as a talented magician and fortune teller, it didn´t take long for our business to flourish and grow enough to pay our bills.

True to my word, I spend the rest of the afternoon tending to a steady flood of customers, some needing a potion or a charm for this and that, some asking me to consult the cards for them and others just wanting to take a look at all the exotic curiosities we have on display. 

I am just sweeping up a mess of powdered bat milk, when Asra wanders in, back from his stroll through the forest. By now, he trusts me to tend to the shop on my own while he leaves to run errands or sets out to another one of his miraculous adventures through the wilderness.

He greets me with a lazy smile. “Rhea...wait til you see what the woods had to offer today.” 

Mushrooms, fruits, herbs, flowers and roots tumble out of his bag onto the countertop, about half of them meant to restock our supply of magic ingredients, while the other half will most likely serve as dinner during the upcoming week. We are living off of the land as much as possible, since even with our magic shop running smoothly, money is a hard thing to come by in Vesuvia. 

He leans on his elbows, hands under his chin, watching me with delight in his lilac eyes.

“Wow! So much...this is more than we need”, I gape, mouth watering as I realize I haven´t eaten all day. The shop has kept me rather busy with no time for a quick lunch break. 

“Hmm...I thought it´d be better to have plenty. I don´t want to leave you here with nothing but pumpkin bread, even though I know you probably wouldn´t mind that all too much”, he jokes. Despite his light and teasing tone, my heart sinks in misery. So he plans on leaving again.

With my hands still occupied by the broom and dustpan, Asra slips a goldberry in my mouth and I chew slowly, savouring the rich and sweet taste flooding my tongue. “Good?”, he asks and I nod reflexively, mind otherwise occupied.

“When are you leaving?” 

He scratches the back of his head, messing up his already messy white curls. “Tonight.”

_Tonight._

My throat constricts and suddenly the sweet juices just make me want to gag. "I see...”, I mumble flatly, turning away from him to dump the remnants of the powdered bat milk into the trash bin, before I put the broom and dustpan away.

When I spin around on my heels, Asra is standing right in front of me and before I can speak, he sweeps back a lock of my long, soft brown hair and tucks a vibrant flower behind my ear. We are about the same height, so our faces are only inches apart. Normally, I would blush at the close proximity, but now it just makes my eyes sting with tears. I don´t want him to go. At least, not without me. But the words get stuck behind my teeth, as always. I avert my gaze and angrily blink the tears away before they can fall.

Asra takes half a step back. “I´ll miss you”, he sighs, sounding just as torn-apart as I feel.

“I´ll miss you too”, I whisper, once again wondering why he keeps leaving me if it pains him so much. These are the moments I wish he would have told me anything substantial about his past, maybe then I could understand why he just disappears for weeks on end without a trace.

“Well, I better go and pack my stuff”, Asra huffs, clearing his throat. “Can you hang these up to dry?”, he adds, gesturing to the flowers and herbs while shoving the rest of his pickings back into the bag. He quickly vanishes through the curtain to the back and then up the stairs, while I just stand there in the middle of the room, body numb. 

Why is he always leaving me alone...?

When the echo of his footsteps fades, I force myself to get a grip. The sun is setting and even though this means the shop is closed for today, there are still more than enough things to do. After tying the herbs and flowers to a rope hanging from the ceiling, I count out the register, keeping tally in a small leather-bound notebook, before locking the day´s earnings in an intricately carved box and whispering a spell to secure it against thieves. No one excerpt Asra and me can even pick the box up, much less open it.

Then I check our stock, noting that we are low on sleeping potion and kryster bug balm. The balm will probably last another few days or so, but I will have to set up a new batch of sleeping potion. With a flick of my wrist, I ignite the candles in the room to grant myself a little more light while I gather the necessary ingredients and fire up the hearth opposite the counter.

After I add everything to the concoction and stir it a couple of times, I step back from the cackling fire and over to the big stained-glass window next to the entrance of the shop, gazing outside. Tonight the evening fog is thick, blanketing the streets in an ethereal, milky glow. I linger at the window to appreciate the tranquil scene, before drawing the curtains shut and returning to the cauldron with my brewing potion. Stirring it again, I whisper a quiet chant.

With that, the sleeping potion is finished and just needs to cool down, before I can fill it in the new vials. Contemplating if I have the patience to wait for that, I decide to speed things up. I retrieve a pale blue crystal and suppress a shiver, as I press it to the side of the cauldron. I have seen Asra do this once. The crystal feels freezing cold to the touch, but when I will my magic to flow through, the temperature of the potion quickly drops low enough to continue.

When Asra eventually comes back down the stairs with a travel bag slung over his shoulder, the sun has long set. He wears a brightly coloured, sleeveless cloak over his white, partially unbuttoned shirt and his face is half hidden behind a patterned shawl. 

I put a cork on the last vial with sleeping potion, before placing it in the shelf behind the glass-topped counter where the others are standing, all lined up neatly in a row. “Must you leave tonight?”, I ask faintly. The question is futile, I already know the answer.

“It´s the dead of a moonless night. The right time for beginning a journey”, Asra replies without missing a beat, casually leaning against the countertop when I turn back around to him. His lilac eyes twinkle in the low lamplight and once again, I get lost in their depths. I don´t even notice that he is holding something out to me, until his voice shakes me out of my trance.

“Here, take this. For you to play around with while I´m gone. My tarot deck.” 

Blinking in surprise, I take the deck from him. He never left it here before, for good reason. It is of his own creation, every single card hand drawn and embedded with his magic, truly a masterpiece. 

“You think I´m ready, Master?”, I inquire, lifting my gaze from the cards to look at him. 

“You´re still calling me that...”, he mumbles in resignation, a faint blush on his tanned cheeks. “You know I can´t answer that for you. You´ve made incredible progress, but you still won´t let go of your doubt. Do _you_ think you´re ready?”, he hums, eyeing me intently.

He has always been like that; answering a question with another question. I have gotten used to his tendency for elusion over the three years I worked as his apprentice, so I know what he wants to hear. “Why don´t we ask the cards?”, I propose with a grin. 

His full lips twitch in amusement. “Excellent suggestion.” 

I step out from behind the counter and move towards the backroom, pulling aside the heavy indigo fabric that separates it from the front of the shop. Asra follows swiftly behind me. A few rays of starlight peak through the gauzy curtains, illuminating the rather small, round table in the middle, the usually bright purple and turquoise colours of the tablecloths dulled. I sink into the reading chair, which really is just a big, well-cushioned ottoman while Asra takes a seat opposite of me, on the slightly less impressive ottoman meant for clients. 

“It´s been a while since we´ve practised”, he muses, apparently just now realizing how long it has been since we were in the same room when doing a reading. Usually we are alone with our respective patrons while we consult the cards for them. 

“Are you doubting my skills?”, I huff with mock-indignation, not quite managing to hide he playfulness in my tone. “I´ll have you know that I´ve perfected the technique a while ago, the cards speak to me just like they speak to you.” 

He raises a brow. “Have you now?”, he hums, somewhere between amused and impressed. “You really are gifted, I shouldn´t have expected any less. Well then, let´s see that perfect technique of yours”, he adds, fixing me with an attentive gaze. He is always going on about how powerful and gifted I am; his confidence is heartening, really, but I don´t know where it stems from. Sure, I am pretty good for an apprentice, but hardly someone special.

Just when I am about to shuffle the deck of tarot cards, something brushes against my ankle, smooth and cold. I startle slightly, but keep myself still, while Asra quickly reaches down from his ottoman and holds out his hand. A long pale purple serpent winds her way up his arm. She flicks her tongue at me. It is Faust, Asra´s familiar. She is pleased to see me, I think. I am actually quite shocked that she chose to brush up against me. Touching the familiar of a magician is a highly intimate act and usually a sign of deep trust between two people. Faust has never done something like this before. I feel honoured. 

Asra gives the serpent a look I can´t quite place. “If we´re all here...let´s begin”, he prompts. 

I make another attempt at shuffling the deck and without a surprise visitor to distract me, the cards slip through my skilful fingers, as I deal out three of them with practiced ease. Under my master´s keen gaze, I hover my right hand above the selection, feeling for the nearly imperceptible pull of magic to guide me. A second later, I choose a card and flip it. 

“The High Priestess, reversed”, I note, marvelling at the image of an owl with maroon eyes. 

Asra leans in close, expectant. “And what is she telling you? Is she speaking to you now?”

When the cards speak to me it isn´t in any human tongue or even a sound I could describe. Nonetheless, when my mind is clear, the answers I seek come to me with little effort. 

“You have forsaken her”, I intone, my voice unusual husky and aloof, like always when I lend it to the spirits of the cards. It used to frighten me, but now I barely even take notice. 

“I have?”, Asra asks, puzzled.

“Yes. You´ve pushed her away and buried her voice”, I reply, dread welling up inside of me. He frowns but says nothing, waiting for me to continue. 

“She calls out, but you won´t listen. Master, if you ignore her-“, I urge. A sharp knocking startles all three of us and my connection is lost. A customer? At this hour?

“Did we forget to put out the lantern again? Just as well, I can´t stay any longer”, Asra sighs, gathering up his things to leave. He swipes his feathered hat from a hook on the nearby wall, pulling it low into his face. I wonder where he is going this time and what kind of obscure artefact or trinkets he will bring back, but know better than to ask him. He never answers. Sometimes it still drives me insane.

He retrieves the travel bag he had placed on the floor next to the reading table and shoulders it once again, turning to properly face me.

“Well then...take care of yourself, Rhea.” He still has something to say, but he won´t say it. He never does. "Until we meet again."

"Until we meet again”, I echo faintly, as he crosses the room and slips out the back door. 

Asra has barely left when the mystery visitor knocks again. Impatient, by the sound of it. Cursing under my breath, I hurry back through the heavy curtain towards the front of the shop, leaving the tarot deck on the table. A little wary, I press my face to the peephole and peer out into the dark. A mysterious figure is standing in the glow of the lantern outside, a woman by the looks of it, dressed in fine silk robes, but her face is hidden behind an ornate shawl. Her hands are twisting together anxiously as she waits and even in the dim light, I spy jewels along her fingers. She doesn´t seem too dangerous.

I open the door. “How may I help you?” 

The woman just brushes past me as if she owned the place and closes the door behind her. “Forgive me for the hour...but I will not suffer another sleepless night”, she speaks up while unwinding the shawl from her head. As the elegant cloth slips away, I catch the first glimpse of my visitor´s face, and silently gasp. Long tyrian purple hair, sharp maroon eyes and dark skin. The Countess Nadia. Here in my shop...

She takes another step towards me, hands twisting in the luxurious fabric of her shawl. “Please, you must read the cards for me”, she pleads, her voice even, but I could swear I can hear a hint of desperation behind that careful control. What could have upset her so much?

I force myself to recover from the shock of her royal presence and square my shoulders. “You´ve come to the right place, Milady”, I assure her with an easy smile on my lips. 

The Countess relaxes ever so slightly, her gaze sweeping over the shop, taking in the rows of vials with multicoloured tinctures, the boxes full of various crystals, stones and other clutter, the heaps of candles, the bundled herbs hanging from the ceiling and the huge animal skull sitting on the shelf behind the counter, shrouded in the still lingering haze of incense. Then her sharp maroon gaze settles on me and I have never felt quite so inadequate before. Against her finely woven robes made from the most luxurious silks, linen and gold thread, my own clothes appear painfully plain. A white peasant blouse, a lavender skirt and a dark purple and turquoise scarf wrapped around my hips, rimmed with softly clinking beads. My feet are bare, excerpt for the rows of bracelets lined with little metal platelets. 

“So I´m told”, the Countess remarks. “Your reputation precedes you. Beggars and nobles alike ...the people of Vesuvia whisper your name in wonder. Though in my dream you were..." She halts, carefully choosing her next word. “...different. No matter, I come with a proposal."

I don´t doubt that the people of Vesuvia are whispering behind my back, but it would hardly be in wonder. More like mild confusion and suspicion. I can´t really blame them though, considering how I was first acting around anyone else but Asra when- 

My thoughts latch on to the second part of her statement and I furrow my brows in confusion. “Dream?”, I blurt out. 

The Countess just sighs. “Yes. An unwelcome ability I have come to possess. My dreams are haunted by visions of a future waiting to unfold”, she explains, her perfect posture wavering for a second. “But the future I saw, the one that brought me to you...is one I will not allow to pass.”

I have to admit, if I weren´t already intrigued before, now I definitively am. Prophetic dreams are a rare talent. I am itching to ask her about the contents of her vision, but she doesn´t seem to want to share this information quite yet. So I settle for the next best question. “So...what´s the proposal, Milady?”, I ask hesitantly. 

“Are you nervous, perhaps? You needn’t be. I require very little of you”, she assures me. “Come to the Palace and be my guest for a short while. You will be afforded with every luxury, of course. I ask only that you bring your skill...and the Arcana.” 

The Arcana. That is the name of Asra´s tarot deck, as well as the name of the magical patrons of the cards whispering answers back at us. But how does the Countess know about this?

“I will alert the guards to expect you tomorrow”, the Countess continues, before I have the chance to accept or decline the offer. It doesn´t matter anyway, I can hardly refuse her.

“But before that...I want to see these talents of yours for myself. Shall we do a reading?”, she suggests with an elegantly raised brow.

I give a curt nod. “This way, Milady”. Under her imperious gaze, I usher her to the backroom, which seems entire unfitting for a person of her status. I try not to show my nervousness. 

The Countess seats herself across from me in the clients´ chair, her gaze darting around the small space, before falling on the intricately crafted cards on the table between us. As I pick up the cards from the previous reading for my master and shuffle the tarot deck, she folds her hands before her and closes her eyes, poised and waiting. I deal out three cards and place them on the table, hovering my hand above them. Listening. A whisper guides me and I pick one to flip it over, revealing a picture of a fox with lilac eyes.

“The Magician.”

At my words, the Countess opens her eyes and peers down at the card, studying its face. “How very appropriate. And what does the Magician hold for me?”, she inquires. 

The answer comes to me as easily as ever. “You have a plan. One that´s important to you.” 

If she is surprised by the change in my voice, she masks it well. “And? Should I set it in motion?” Her eyes pierce me, flashing brilliantly in the lamplight. 

“Yes. Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place”, I intone with confidence. 

The Countess releases the breath, she was holding. “Say no more.” Abruptly, she stands, giving the card one last glance, before marching off and leaving me to hurry behind her. She throws back the curtains, striding back into the front of the shop. Halting next to the counter, she turns back to me with a sharp whirl, making the skirts of her robes flutter around her.

“Your fortunes are straightforward. Much the same as the others I´ve heard. And yet... you are the first to pique my interest”, she admits, deep in thought. I don´t know what to reply to this, so I choose to stay silent. 

“I´ll take my leave now”, she remarks, winding the shawl around her face once again, prompting me into action.

“Please wait, Milady, before you go...I´d advise you to take this.” I head behind the counter, fetching one of the vials from the shelf. “It´s a mild sleeping potion, made from valerian roots, fresh hops and Ashwaganda berries. You mentioned that you suffer from sleepless nights, this should bring you some relief.” 

Hesitantly, the Countess takes the vial from my hands and gives it a scrutinizing glance. 

“Just two or three drops into a cup of tea before bed, and you should have a peaceful rest”, I explain. “Even though I cannot promise that it will keep the visions at bay.” 

She contemplates for another moment, before letting the little vial vanish inside her robes. "How much do I owe you?”, she asks with a raised brow.

“Nothing, Milady. It´s a gift”, I reply. I guess if the Palace is going to house me for a while, I might as well give her a discount.

“Very well then.” The Countess crosses to the front door, but stops short. “Ahem.” 

I nearly trip over my feet in my haste to open the door for her, but she merely looks amused. 

“I will see you tomorrow then, at the Palace. Pleasant dreams”, she bids her goodbye. With that, she glides past me and into the night.

For a moment, I am frozen, staring after her figure long after it has vanished into the mist. Eventually I do remember how to move and flick my wrist at the lantern above the entrance to put it out, so there wouldn´t be any more late-night customers, before closing the door. Then I rummage around the shop, tidying up a little to be sure everything is clean before I have to leave in the morning. Once satisfied with the state of the front room, I flick my wrist again and the candles die out. Now the only source of light is the dimly glowing liquid in two bottles hung from the ceiling. Whatever could the Countess of Vesuvia want with a magician´s apprentice? And all that talk of my reputation...could it be that she mistook me for Asra? I am still mulling it over when I hear a harsh, muffled voice.

“Strange hours for a shop to keep”, someone drawls from behind me and as I whirl around, I spot a tall figure leaning against the doorway to the backroom, watching me from behind a creepy white bird mask. “So this is the witch’s lair. Then...who might _you_ be?”, he inquires. 

My hearts starts racing as the masked intruder pushes himself off the doorway and advances towards me, his black cloak billowing behind him, showing off the red inner lining. I call magic to my fingertips and create a bright glow, hoping to blind the stranger to give me some precious time to think, all the while cursing myself for leaving my trusty sage blades upstairs. I don´t know any offensive spells or hexes strong enough to use in a fight, so currently my best option would probably be to make a break for the stairs and get my knives. But my plan to blind the intruder fails, the red lenses of his mask seem to obstruct the brightly glowing light.

“Ha! En garde, then!”, he huffs, as I aim a weak burst of golden energy at him. He ducks, swirling the cape with an outrageous flourish and pulls a knife from his pant pocket. “Has the witch been teaching you his tricks? I´ve seen them all bef-“

Purely out of reflex, I thrust my hand towards him and I think he is just as surprised as I am, when he is hauled off his feet and thrown backwards, crashing back-first into the nearest wall. Knocked loose by the blow, the stranger´s mask clatters to the floor. 

“Heh...you _do_ have guts”, he spits at me and tries to move, only to realize moments later that he is immobilized by an invisible force, tightly pressed against the wall. 

I can see him swallow. I have no idea how I am even doing this, I have no recollection of ever learning this spell and even if I did read about it somewhere by chance, it should be way too advanced for me. My hearts stops when he lifts his gaze to mine; he wears a patch over his right eye, the other one is a steel grey, with such heavy dark circles around it as if he hasn´t slept in weeks. Locks of auburn hair fall across his forehead, swept to the right side to conceal the eyepatch. All his features are sharp and angular, from his cheekbones, over his nose to his chin. I know his face. I have seen it on wanted posters all over the city...but his names eludes me. It irks me that I can´t remember. 

I have him pinned for now, at least as long as I don´t lower my arm. I should probably try to call for the guards and hope one walks by on his nightly patrol before my magic burns out. Just when I am about to open my mouth to start calling for help, the intruder speaks up again.

“Quickly now. _Where is the witch?_ ”, he asks, sounding more impatient than inconvenienced.

I glare up at him defiantly, hissing through gritted teeth. “What do you want from him?” 

“Oh, don´t worry. I just need to talk to him. He owes me some answers”, he scoffs. 

I can feel my magic depleting rapidly, this spell is more draining than anticipated, but I have still some energy left in me. “Master Asra is gone. I don´t know where or when he´ll be back.”

“Master...is it...? Ahem. I won´t pry into your personal affairs”, he huffs, clearing his throat. “But if you don´t know and I don´t know...why don´t we ask your magic cards? That _is_ what the room in the back is for, isn´t it?”, he proposes smugly, catching me completely off-guard. 

He wants me to do a reading for him? Is this a trick? And am I really falling for it? But he has long since stopped struggling against the invisible force pinning him to the wall and I can´t feel any ill intend towards me. He still has a knife, though. I should change that.

"Alright I´ll consult the cards for you...there is just one condition”, I agree, stepping closer until I stand directly in front of him, while still keeping the telekinesis spell in full effect. 

“Oh? And what would that be?”, he wonders, tugging his thin lips into a suggestive smirk.

Only now do I realize how tall he really is, easily towering above me by eight or nine inches. I have to crane my neck to look him in the eye, holding his gaze to distract him, while I sneak the knife from his grasp, wincing inwardly at the leathery squealing sound of his gloves. His eye widens when he realizes that I just disarmed him. 

“I´ll keep that for the reading. You can have it back afterwards”, I hum, pocketing the knife. “Deal?”, I ask with a raised brow, hoping he doesn´t call my bluff and accepts before my magic is completely depleted. 

He nods once. “Deal.”

I take a step back and lower my arm, releasing the spell moments before my energy runs out. He stumbles forward, but catches himself just short of faceplanting into the floor. Adjusting his cloak, he motions towards the backroom with an overly-dramatic gesture. “After you, then, little witch”, he announces in an exaggeration of a gentlemanly tone. I am already regretting this decision. Nonetheless, I guide the way, parting the heavy curtain.

He drops himself into the reading chair, looming over the table. “Go on, no need to be shy”, he mocks, when I hesitantly take a seat on the ottoman usually meant for clients. 

“I...I don´t know your name”, I reply, while gathering up the cards, not yet shuffling them. 

He frowns. “My name?” 

“For your reading. I need to know your name”, I explain evenly. “Names hold power.” 

“Oh. Ahem. Right. Yes, of course...”, he stammers, suddenly nervous. “You can call me Julian.” 

I begin to shuffle the deck, his eye tracking my every move. I deal out three cards. Before I try to continue, I take a breath to clear my mind. Something feels not quite right. Still, I wait for the magic pull. As soon as the card is flipped, my thoughts start racing. I stare at the image of a horse with its skull exposed, holding a sickle. “Death...”, I breathe.

The card whispers to me, but before I can understand it, Julian interrupts. “Death?”, he repeats. “Death?”, he then barks with uncontrollable laughter, jumping from his chair and slamming his hands on the table. I jolt in surprise at his sudden outburst.

He turns away from me and the cards, raising his eyes to the heavens. “Death cast her glance upon this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me”, he scoffs, striding out of the backroom without sparing me or the tarot cards another look. 

Overcome with confusion, I follow at his heels. “Wait! That´s not what Death means, it´s-“, I try to explain, ducking through the heavy curtain to catch up with him. 

But Julian heaves a heartfelt sigh, shaking his head. “No, no, don´t bother. My fate is sealed. But you´ve been hospitable, so I´ll let you in on a secret”, he cuts me off again. 

Well, getting slammed against a wall by a magic force field isn´t what I would call hospitable, but considering he broke into my shop, there could have been worse things awaiting him. 

“Your witch friend will be back for you. He´s taught you his tricks. You may even say that he cares for you...” He lifts his mask from the floor, staring into its glassy, red eyes. “But when he returns...seek me out, for your own sake. Don´t let him fool you, shopkeep.” 

I don´t know what to make of his ominous warning; he is a wanted criminal and Asra is the person I trust most in the world.

After giving me a long, hard look, he fixes his mask in place. “Well then. The hour is late and I´m out of time”, he states, marching towards the door.

“Wait”, I call out, not moving from my spot. “Your knife”, I remind him and chuck it at him from a safe distance. He moves to catch it, but his hand closes around nothing but air, while the knife clatters to the floor. He hastily bends to pick it up and slips it back into his pocket. I guess his depth perception must be a little off with only one eye. 

“Thanks...”, he mumbles, sounding nearly sheepish behind that strange, beaked mask. With a swirl of his great black cloak, he throws the door open and struts out of my shop. It slams shut behind him as he disappears into the darkness. 


	2. 1 - The Magician

{The Magician makes real that which is unreal, manifesting desires from nothingness.}

{Now is the time to take action, before all comes to naught. Stay focused: You have a job to do.}

-

{The Magician manipulates and obscures the truth. Their honeyed words seem like hope in the haze.}

{Be wary of lies from the mouths of charismatic charmers. They will not keep their promises.}

\----------

I have seen many strange things in my time as a magician´s apprentice...but the events of this night were the strangest yet by far. I make sure to lock both the frontdoor and the backdoor, before I finally head upstairs to lie down in Asra´s and my bedroom, seeking a moment´s rest. 

There is only one bed that my master and I share; a nest of blankets and patterned pillows. Neither of us minds the arrangement, but usually I get the bed all to myself anyway. When he isn´t away on some adventure, Asra´s sleeping habits are predictably unpredictable. He naps sporadically throughout the day, anywhere he can find a vaguely horizontal surface.

I once spend half a day running the shop by myself, wondering when Asra will come back from his forest stroll, just to nearly kick him in the face when I sat down at the reading table he had been sleeping under the entire time, hidden away by the table cloth. 

Casting so much magic has left me feeling exhausted; I barely manage to scribble down a few lines in the journal I keep on the bedside table, full of short notes about what I did in a day. It helps me keep my thoughts organized, so I won´t forget anything of importance. Then I sluggishly undress and stumble into bed, before I slip away, lost in a dream.

_ _ _

The sky is no more than a slim, green line along the endless horizon, barely visible anymore. Asra sits beside me, on the back of a strange beast that I have never seen before. I have no idea how my meddled mind constructed that part of my dream, but maybe I have caught a glimpse of something similar in one of the many books about magical creatures. 

“Master, where are we?”, I ask him, anxiously looking around the barren landscape, made up of nothing than an ever shifting sea of rust-coloured sand. Dark clouds bear down all around, like they want to smother us underneath their wrath. Ahead is a road of perfect black stone.

Asra scouts the landscape. “Far enough from home, I think”, he muses without looking at me.

“Far enough...for what?” I don´t like this place, wherever it might be.

“For answers. For clarity. And I need them soon. A storm is coming...”, He keeps his gaze fixed on something in the distance, voice dimming to a wistful whisper. I strain to see where the path leads, but it keeps changing and the longer I try the more my head begins to spins.

“Soon there will be a crossroad."

I blink a few times to shake off the lingering dizziness. “How soon? Where do they lead?”

“Depends on which one you take.” His hands reach for mine, but he stops just short. The sands rise all around us on a chilly wind, blotting out the sky. “For now, Rhea...rest.”

_ _ _

When I wake, dawn light is filtering through the dusty windows and I groan, still tired after only five or six hours of sleep thanks to last night´s events. I sit up straight at that memory, anxiety kicking in. The Countess awaits me at the Palace today, I have to get a move on.

Slipping out of bed, I search through my wardrobe, trying to find something more suited for travel than a skirt. I settle on some harem pants, patterned in shades of teal and mauve, also tying a light turquoise cloth around my hips and securing it with a sash in a deep plum colour. I pair them with a strappy crop top in the same shade of teal as a few designs on the pants.

Then I put on some jewellery, golden bracelets around my ankles and wrists; rings embedded with different types of stones and symbols; earrings, as well as my usual layers of necklaces. The first one is a thick golden choker with etched-in sigils, very similar to the one Asra always wears, only different in their meanings; the second one is a little longer, a fine golden chain with a gleaming moonstone; the third one has a downturned crescent as a pendant and the fourth one comes to rest just below the swell of my breasts, a little plate that shows a star constellation on the front, but a protection rune on the back.

Lastly, I try to tame the unruly waves of my soft brown hair into something more manageable, braiding back one side and adorning each braid with little golden rings and clasps.

After I got myself ready, I quickly pack my stuff into a travel bag and the rest, like my money, my journal, Asra´s tarot deck and a few magical items into a small satchel. My sage blades are safely stored away in the inside of the sash around my hips.

Already halfway down the stairs, I remember the supplies Asra brought in from the forest yesterday and quickly spin back around to gather all the perishable foods in a burlap sack. It would be such a waste to let these just spoil in our pantry while I am away at the Palace.

Throwing on a well-worn travelling cloak, I shoulder all my baggage and hurry outside. The burlap sack nearly slides off my arm as I drag the heavy door shut behind me. After last night´s intrusion...I turn the first lock and then the second and third, just to be sure. Almost satisfied, I press my right hand to the door and whisper a cross-me-not spell. White whorls glow deep within the door, slowly fading into the grain without leaving a trace.

I am about to depart from my shop when the hairs at the nape of my neck rise in alarm. Someone is right beside me, a dark shape looming in the alley. The form is certainly human, though enormous in size, their flesh scored with scars, clean and jagged, shallow and deep. Shrouded in a pall of weather-beaten furs, it is hard to make out the face of the man. But he is definitively watching me, standing between me and the road I need to take. 

I take a deep breath; my willingness to deal with mysterious strangers has been stressed enough in the last couple of hours.

“Excuse me. Can you move?”, I ask, politely, but firmly. Stormy green eyes meet mine, unblinking, before the hulking figure slowly slides to the left, clearing my path. I hear the rattle of weighty chains swinging ominously beneath his robes. I square my shoulders and march forward, adjusting my grip on the burlap sack.

When I just barely manage to brush past him, he speaks up, in a voice like distant thunder. “He will return, uninvited. He will offer you an escape, when you need it most. Turn it away. Or you will fall into his hand...just like the rest of us.” 

My steps falter and I stand frozen, processing what I just heard. There is shuffling behind me, the dragging of rough cloth and chains. Then, silence. I look up and down the foggy alley.

I left the shop and then...wasn´t someone else here just now? Or did I only imagine it? Am I getting paranoid now after last night´s shenanigans? I shake off the fading thought. Anyway, I don´t have time to dawdle, the Countess is expecting me and the track is still long. Also, I need to make a little detour to the Flooded District first.

The shop is located pretty much in the middle of the City Centre, so it doesn´t take me too long to cross over to the other district. I only need to pass two canals to reach the outskirts. I am unsure what happened to cause the flooding, but most houses have been severely damaged and the only people still there are the ones who don´t have another choice. Most of them are orphans, street urchins, that lost their parents, either to the destruction or the Red Plague that had swept through Vesuvia a few years ago, killing thousands. 

I have barely made it a few streets into the district, when I am already swarmed by a group of dirty children, the oldest maybe twelve or thirteen, the youngest about six or seven. All of them look malnourished, bony limbs visible from beneath the rags they are wearing.

The supposed leader of their group pulls a knife on me, trying to look tough, but I can see his hands are shaking. “Hey, you! Give us all ya money! Or we´ll hurt ya!”, he yells loudly.

“How about we make a deal?”, I offer calmly, heaving the burlap sack from my shoulder and placing it on the ground, so the children can peer at the food inside. Their eyes widen. “I´ll give you this and you let me go?”, I propose, taking half a step back to give them room.

He makes a gesture with his chin. “Lana.” 

One of the older girls snatches the bag, quickly shifting through its contents. A few of the younger kids hover over her shoulder and I can practically hear their stomachs growling. 

Meanwhile their leader keeps a close eye on me, knuckles turning white around the handle of his knife. I notice a shell necklace around his throat, a rather tiny thing dangling from a string. The other children are wearing similar necklaces. Maybe it is their gang symbol. 

“Kye...that´s enough to last us all a week or two...”, the girl whispers in disbelief, once she finished her inventory.

I can´t help the sting I feel at her words. The food inside that bag would last Asra and I maybe a week if we weren´t particularly hungry, but a group of nine children? I can´t even begin to imagine how they usually get by.

Their leader Kye, I assume, turns to her. “We...we´ll have to hide it. Everyone, stash some of the stuff in your clothes...can´t let the Sand Fleas get their dirty hands on it”, he remarks and they eagerly follow his instructions, filling up their pockets until the burlap bag is emptied.

Kye turns back to me and lowers the knife by a fraction. He wavers, I can feel uncertainty radiating off of him in waves, but then he sets his jaw and takes a step closer to me. “Not good enough! We´ll take the food _and_ all your money!”, he hisses, the blade now directly pointing at my throat.

I sigh lowly, not particularly bothered by the rusty blade. They all seem to listen to his orders, so I just need to convince him to change his mind about the whole robbing me thing. With a deep breath, I focus and look him straight in the eyes.

"But you don´t want to do that. You just want to take the food and find a safe place to eat.”

My voice has a slight echo to it, every syllables vibrating with magic, pushing my intentions into the boy´s mind. It is a spell called the Allure, a weak form of brain washing. I can´t actually make him do anything he doesn´t want to, but he doesn´t want to harm me. Not really. I just have to nudge him into the right direction and he will follow.

“You don´t want to use that knife. You don´t want to hurt anyone. You just want to survive. You want to protect your friends. You´re very brave, but you need to put down the knife.” 

The magic in my voice grows stronger with every word and the boy blinks a couple of times, fighting the haze, but ultimately surrenders. He lowers the knife, stumbling backwards. “We´re gonna spare you this time, lady!”, he growls as he gestures their retreat to the others, and a moment later they are already darting away, vanishing between the crumbled houses.

I sigh again, seeing all the orphans around town breaks my heart, but there is only so much I can do about it. It isn´t a secret that Vesuvia has been struggling the last couple of years and the courtiers have barely been holding things together while the Countess was...indisposed.

From what I have heard, the city´s descend started nearly two decades ago. Count Zavian had been a fair ruler, well liked among his people as they still speak highly of him even now, but his bloodline wasn´t meant to be continued. After he had lost both his wife and son during childbirth, he named the Minister of War as his successor of the office. The decision had been heavily criticized, since the Minister had only been at court for about a year at that point, but none of his counsellors had been able to make him reconsider. Only a couple of weeks later, Count Zavian died during one of his hunting trips, an unlucky encounter with a drider that only his Minister of War and some squire boy survived.

The Minister of War became the new Count and replaced the entire court with candidates of his choosing. Amongst the townsfolk of Vesuvia he seemed to have been best known for his lavish parties, his love for gladiator fights and his inability to govern a city. Then, three years ago he was apparently murdered in his sleep, leaving behind a bedridden wife and a whole lot of problems. Maybe now that Countess Nadia is able to take matters in her own hands again, things would finally change for the better. One could only hope.

Exhaling deeply, I circle back over the canals and to the City Centre, continuing towards the narrow, mossy steps to the marketplace, having one less bag to weight me down. 

It is still pretty early, yet the marketplace is already wide awake; stalls are lining both sides of the canals, the water covered by various wooden planks to form a walkway in between them. All around me are the sounds of bartering, laughter, vendors hawking their wares. A voice I know well calls out to me over the sea of noise.

“Rhea! Have you eaten? I´ve got that pumpkin loaf you like in the oven. Won´t be long now”, Selasi informs me. “Come, sit down, talk for a while!”

I sniff the air and my stomach twists in hunger; I have skipped breakfast, too caught up in my preparations for my departure, but then again I should be careful of the time, so I decline the invitation with a friendly wave. The baker nods, ducking back into the sweet-smelling booth.

I continue on, balancing over the wooden planks, while the water underneath me churns. I used to stress about accidentally miss-stepping and taking a plunge in the canals below, but nowadays I barely even need to look where I place my feet.

A raven, perched overhead on one of the stalls, meets my gaze, before its fathomless eyes shift to fix onto something over my shoulder. I glance back and my heart stutters in shock. Julian moves casually through the crowd, without his mask. Or his dramatic cape. He doesn´t seem to have spotted me yet.

Without a second thought, I trail after him. But traffic is moving against me and I don´t want to cause an obvious disturbance, so I am not making much progress in getting closer to him. He looks unguarded, surveying the market with leisurely interest. What is he doing here, unmasked and in broad daylight? Does he want to get caught? After all, the wanted posters never came down. People around here must know his face. A face like his is hard to forget. Criminal or not, I have to admit, he is rather handsome. 

The raven shrieks again and Julian quickly turns around. Our eyes lock, I freeze in my tracks.

Suddenly, a cart moves between us, piled high with cabbages, blocking my view. 

When it has passed...he is long gone. I stop, letting the herd of patrons weave around me. What am I even doing? Why am I chasing after some criminal, putting myself in danger? But is he really dangerous? Shaking my head, I turn back to rejoin the flow of traffic.

A few streets further down from the city centre, I leave the hustle and bustle of the market place and pass the bridge spanning over one of the wider canals, entering the Heart District. The houses here are a lot more posh than in the centre and arranged in terraces, gradually stretching up towards the Palace. Only the nobles and a handful of the wealthiest merchants could afford living in this part of town, above the commoners struggling to make ends meet.

As I climb the well-worn steps, something catches my eye. A fortune teller´s booth, tucked away in a shady corner. I inwardly scoff, it is partially thanks to charlatans like them, that real magicians have a bad reputation. As I am lost in my musings, a patron emerges from the booth; a short woman with fiery orange locks tied up with a striped headscarf. “Lucky numbers, check. Groceries-“

I try to manoeuvre around her, but there isn´t much space and when she suddenly backs up, we crash into each other. The impact makes me stumble, teetering on the edge of a step. It also upsets the basket balanced on the stranger´s hip, which sends a dozen pomegranates rolling down the stairs and into the street below.

“Oh, perfect! As if I wasn´t already late...”, she huffs in frustration, before quickly chasing after the escaped fruits. 

I trail along, dropping into a crouch beside her to help, using the cloth around my hips to easily gather up four or five pomegranates. I spot another one as it is about to be stomped under a stray hoof of a cart-pulling donkey and swipe it at the last second. When I hand it back to the stranger, her soft grey eyes sparkle with delight.

“Oh, thank you! How sweet of you to help. And after I bumped into you in the first place”, she grins up at me. Then she blinks. “Oh, wow, your eyes! They´re...wow!”, she blurts out, openly gaping. 

I am already used to the reactions, I suppose my mismatched eyes are rather unusual after all, the right one a pale jade green and the left one a vibrant sky blue. Normally I can´t stand the weird stares I get from random people, but with her I don´t mind; she looks cute with the blush on her cheeks nearly drowning out her freckles.

“No problem. And thanks”, I grin and together we hunt down the rest of the pomegranates. They may be a little bruised and dusty, but no worse for wear. 

“Well, I can´t thank you enough!”, the stranger exclaims once again, offering me a hand. The skin of her small palm is rough against mine, calloused from physical labour and I am surprised by her strength when she easily hauls me to my feet.

"It´s fine, really. Don´t worry about it”, I hum, toppling the gathered pomegranates from my makeshift cloth bag back into the basket she had placed on the ground.

“Probably shouldn´t do this, but...I want to pay you back for your kindness...here”, she muses, swiping a fruit from the basket and rubbing it off on her sleeve, before offering it to me. When I accept it, the stranger gives me a smile that warms my chest. She radiates positivity, soothing my nerves at the prospect of having to make an appearance at the Palace.

“Take care, all right? I´ll see you around-“ Her eyes widen when she takes a closer look at me. “Wait, wait, wait! I know you!”, she blurts out.

I am at a loss. I have no idea who she is. My hand twitches against my satchel, feeling the outline of my notebook underneath my fingertips. Maybe I served her at the shop once? Or we met at the marketplace? Or perhaps we had run into each over at the bakery before? Or-

“You´re Rhea Iltani, the magician! Countess Nadia said we were expecting you for today”, she interrupts my frantic thoughts.

“Oh! So you work at the Palace?”, I ask, somewhat relived. That explains her choice of groceries. No commoner just buys pomegranates by the dozen; they are rather expensive fruit after all.

She nods. “Yes, I´m Milady´s head servant. You can call me Portia. Well, how lucky were we? Come on I´ll show you the quickest path to the Palace”, she blabbers on, whisking me along. I am grateful for the company; Portia is a sweetheart and really fun to talk to.

After a few minutes, and idea crosses my mind and I reach for one of my beloved sage blades, curved slightly and forged to resemble a leaf, lacy veins and all. An old present from Asra. Portia watches curiously as I use it to cut the top of the pomegranate she gave me, before I carefully slice the sides and unfold the hard shell into a crude bowl. I slip a dark red seed into my mouth, licking the juices from my lips while holding the fruit out to her.

She shakes her head. “Oh no, I couldn´t! These aren´t meant for the servants.” 

“But you gifted that one here to me. So now it´s my decision to share it as I see fit, isn´t it...?”, I argue with a raised brow.

She smiles a little bashfully, but takes a seed, chewing slowly. “You know, when I heard a magician was coming to the Palace, I have to admit I was a bit wary at first ...but I guess that was just due to all the talk floating around about your kind...”

I keep silent. Magicians were envied as much as they were feared; people yearned for their mystic powers, all the while dreading what they didn´t understand. I suppose my kind was ranking higher in the eyes of the nobles, as they often called upon our powers for their comfort and their entertainment, but the general public knew very little about us excerpt for the bedtime stories they had been told as children to frighten them into obedience. You better behave or the evil witch will get you. Don´t talk to strangers or you will be spirited away. If you stay out after dark, you will get lost and end up being cooked alive in a cauldron. Only problem was that somewhere along the line, the adults started to believe in these stories too. Well, not that all of them were so far from the truth. 

“But I guess I was wrong”, Portia continues. “I always thought magicians would be these strange and menacing figures with pointy hats and big chains full of skulls...”, she described, shuddering at the thought. “You´re none of that. You´re actually really pretty”, she blurts out, blushing lightly when she realizes what she just said. “Oh...uh...I mean...”, she stammers. 

“Thanks. You´re really pretty, too”, I snort, as she gives me a playful shove.

As the sun slowly journeys across the sky, Portia and I climb stair after seemingly endlessly infinite stair. The higher we ascend, the fewer travellers we encounter along the way. By the time we reach the top, I can barely walk. I have always thought of myself as rather fit, but apparently dancing or tracking through the forest in search for ingredients and to study all sorts of mystical creatures isn´t quite comparable to conquering thousands of stairs. 

Portia doesn´t seem winded at all, still smiling brightly at me. “Rhea, I´m glad you´re here. The Countess could use good help. And you look like a good sort to me.” 

“Well, I do hope I can be of any help to the Countess, but I am still at a loss as to what she could need my help for”, I heave out, remembering how anxious she had looked in my shop.

“Oh, I´m sure Milady will tell you soon enough”, she shrugs, not offering much insight either.

When we reach our destination, it is near dark. Before us is a towering gate of twisted iron. Beyond that, the Palace rises in a symphony of white towers with glittering golden spires and high arches, looking even more breathtaking up close than from down in the city. Two guards stand on either side of the gate, their eyes glint at me from behind their helmets. But they lower their weapons when they see Portia trailing along next to me.

She briskly walks up to them. “Ludovico, Bludmila, this is Rhea. She´ll be staying as our guest.” The guards nod at me, their stiff posture relaxing ever so slightly. In unison, they push open the heavy iron gates, a quiet creaking sound accompanying the motion.

“After you, Rhea”, Portia says and I hesitantly step forward, suddenly feeling very small.

Anxiety twists in my gut, I don´t have the slightest idea what to expect or how to act around the royal court. I have just barely managed to relearn how to behave around normal people in normal everyday life and even then I am still at a loss sometimes and make a fool of myself. I really wish Asra was by my side, he has always been there for me to guide me through the doubt and confusion, his hand securely linked with mine. My fingers twitch at the memory. The gates slam shut behind me and I jolt at the loud noise. There is no turning back now.

Portia leads me across a long, steep bridge, made from the same white stone as the rest of the Palace. Some kind of eel twists through the waters below, glowing like a bloodless ghost. It is a good few inches longer than my arm and twice as thick, its body nearly translucent. As far as I know, there are quite a few of them in the canals around the city, a real infestation.

I heard a rumour that some unlucky traveller, unfamiliar with the water way system, once fell in one of the canals by the docks and was sucked completely dry of blood in under a minute. And even if you make it out of the water in time, their saliva prevents the wound from closing and you just bleed to death anyway. Or you get an infection. They are pretty nasty creatures. 

My pace comes to a halt, as I watch it wreath in search for its next prey, completely entranced until Portia gently tugs on my arm, leading me away from the edge of the bridge. “Come on now, we don´t want to keep Milady waiting”, she reminds me with a gentle smile. I follow along sheepishly, dragging my feet to try and delay the inevitable.

As we approach the intricate doors to the Palace itself, the knot in my stomach grows tighter and tighter, my anxiety rising. Is this wise? What awaits me, in this fortress so far from home? Too soon, we are standing before the doors.

“Here we are!”, Portia exclaims enthusiastically. She swings her fist against the copper plating, three skull-rattling strikes, making me wince. As the last echoes fade, the pendulous doors swing inward.


End file.
